


The Adventures of A. J. Raggles - Part One - "The Eyes of Mars"

by Mrs Maggots (thechestofsilver)



Series: The Adventures of A. J. Raggles [1]
Category: Raffles - E. W. Hornung, The Adventures of A. J. Raggles
Genre: Absolute Idiots (in love), Adventures in Victorian Suburban London, Crime and Checkers, Friends to Lovers, High-Steaks Burglary, M/M, Original Characters based on Literary Characters, Parody, and developed in the Raffles discord server, born from typo on questionable edition of book, enjoy, extravagant excessive metaphors, on a bright summer's day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:00:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26051536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thechestofsilver/pseuds/Mrs%20Maggots
Summary: To E. W. H. - *This* form of flattery.
Relationships: A. J. Raggles & Buddy Maggots, A. J. Raggles/Buddy Maggots
Series: The Adventures of A. J. Raggles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1904011
Comments: 10
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the gang over at the Raffles discord server. Especially for Wolfie, for embracing these two with all their heart and aiding in expanding on some original silly headcanons; and for Paige, for being the best support and partner in crime (writing) one could have.

**"THE EYES OF MARS"**

**PART I**

It was nearly tea-time when I once again found myself outside the gate of the semi-detached house by the river. The others had evidently left some time ago, for Raggles was sitting alone by the little white table in the garden, with a newspaper turned upside-down in front of him and a pencil in his hand. He looked up when I knocked on the gate, and peered at me over his glasses.

“Buddy?” he said, as if I had fallen from the skies. “Is that you again?”

“It is,” said I, and shifted on my feet before I gave up on ceremony, and opened the gate.

I hasted across the small patch of grass, and sat down beside Raggles, taking off my hat and wringing it anxiously in both my hands.

“Well, whatever is the matter, my dear boy?” he said, putting down his reading glasses, and placing another pair on his long nose. “You look as if you’ve seen the devil!”

“You’ll be sending me to him, for sure, when you’ve heard what I’ve got to say!” I whined, rocking back and forth on my chair. “And you’ll be justified in doing so!” I added with a cry.

“Now, come, it can’t be as bad as all that?” he said, placing his hand on mine. “Why don’t you just tell me about it?”

His hand was like a cool breeze on my heated skin, and it calmed me like an arctic wind blowing through the woods of the Amazonas. But I could not yet meet his eye.

“You know I dropped a key on your sitting room floor earlier?”

“Yes, and Mr Thomas picked it up for you.”

“Well, it wasn’t my key.”

“No? Whose was it then?”

I took another deep breath.

“My… my butcher’s.”

“Your _butcher’s_?”

“Yes. I stole it.”

At last I met his eyes. They were large with wonder—or at least, they would have been, were it not for the fact that I was now sitting too close for his glasses to fully function. Well, he was peering at me with wonder, in any case. I can still see him now, leaning forward on one of his basket chairs in desperate need of repairing; his white linen shirt open at the top three buttons, a few coffee stains on the sleeves, his dark hair ruffled as if by some non-existent summer’s breeze; and those eyes, those watery grey-blue eyes, like a puddle on Trafalgar reflecting a piece of sky at dawn after a cloudy day; squinting through the unpolished glass, seeking deep in my own, as if trying to fish out the secrets of my muddy waters.

“Why on earth did you do that?” he said at last.

I threw my hands in the air.

“I thought it was a good idea at the time,” I exclaimed, and got to my feet. “Work has been scarce lately, Raggles, and I was fixing a pipe for Mr Jones—my butcher—this morning; and the spare key was just _right there_ , and I thought—”

“You thought you could come back later,” he filled in, nodding slowly and picking up his pipe from the table, “and scoop up some cash.”

I simply looked at him, horrified.

“No, I was going to come back for some sausages,” I said. “I had barely eaten in three days!”

He stopped with the pipe an inch from his lips, looking at me for a moment.

“Of course,” he said then, and turned his attention to the pipe, lighting it with the help of a boot-shaped—and rather weather-beaten—brass vesta box which he produced from his breast pocket.

He put the pipe to his lips; and then for some moments he only sat smoking in silence, while I stood waiting for my verdict. I had had hope—a desperate hope, perhaps—that because we had been something of friends in the past, when we were both still young lads playing on the street with the other children, and because he had been kind to me those times I had scraped my knees or lost all my marbles, and because of the invitation for lunch today and because he had called me by my old nickname, he would show me the same kindness now and help me out of a tight spot. No response came, however, kind or otherwise; and at last I realised my defeat, and picked up my hat and headed for the gate with determined steps. But I had barely reached it before Raggles’ long legs caught up with me, and he blocked my way.

“Where are you going?” he said.

“Oh, what does it matter to you?” I said rudely. “You don’t care to help me anyway!”

“My dear chap!” he said, putting his strong hands on my arms. “I didn’t know you were asking for help?”

“You didn’t?”

“No—I simply thought you were in need of easing your conscience with a confession. _I_ myself find that to be very helpful in a dire situation.”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” he retorted, and began to lead me back to the table. “Now, my dearest boy— _how_ can I help you?”

I sat down again, rather tired from my own excitement, but with a suddenly lighter heart. Raggles placed the pipe back between his lips and moved his chair closer to mine, as if making it clear I had his full attention. I took another deep breath, and sighed heavily.

“I lost the key, Raggles,” I said solemnly. “There is a hole in my pocket and it must have fallen out, just the same as it did earlier. I wasn’t even sure if I was going to go through with the thing, or simply return the key—but now I can’t do either! I’m a lousy criminal before I even started!”

“There, there,” said Raggles, patting my hand. “I think you’re marvellous! You took the key in the first place, didn’t you?”

“Yes, well—”

“Well, I never imagined you had such stuff in you, Buddy! I’m wildly impressed.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really!”

His smile was open and honest, and it helped me regain what little courage I had had in the first place.

“Now,” he continued, taking my hand in his, “where did you have the key last?”

“Well… here,” I said. “I only realised I’d lost it when I was nearly home again! And then I traced my own steps back—”

“Just what I would have done,” Raggles nodded approvingly.

“—but couldn’t find it anywhere; and then I was back at your gate, and figured it couldn’t be here because I checked my pocket right before I left, and so I thought—”

“That I might help you find it.”

I met his eyes.

“Yes,” I whispered.

The grey eyes were as warm as blue can be, and my heart fluttered when he pressed my hand with the same warmth. There was no doubt now as to what his answer would be.

“Well!” he exclaimed then, suddenly cheerful, and jumped to his feet. “We will need to get a move on!” he continued, snatching up his tattered blue felt hat from a branch on the rose-bush, and placing it on his head. “Two pairs of eagle eyes must be at least four times as good as one, Buddy; and if we still fail in our mission, I promise you there is no better man than Mr A. J. Raggles to make the next move!”

And with that, he took my hand once more, and dragged me enthusiastically from my chair and over grass and gravel towards the road. I had just enough presence of mind to close the gate behind us as we darted out, and so began our adventure in the afternoon sunshine.


	2. Chapter 2

**PART II**

We searched high and low, on the entire route I had already made back and forth and back again today; but no luck did we have in finding the key.

“It’s a fact, Buddy,” said Raggles at last, when we had retraced our steps yet a bit back the way we had come. “It’s not here, and not to be found where you dropped it, for we surely would have found it by now if so.”

He sunk down in the grass upon a slope, and lay down on his back with his hat over his face. I sunk down next to him.

“But then _where_ is it?” I exclaimed.

“Magpies,” I heard mumbled from beneath the blue felt.

“What?”

“ _Mag-pies_ , Buddy,” he said again. “They steal anything shiny they can get their claws on.”

“Oh,” said I. “But, isn’t it more likely—”

“Or a crow,” he interrupted. “Or a raven, perhaps. Mark my words: that key is currently decorating the wall of some disordered nest.”

I contemplated this for a moment—not the décor preferences of some unknown charcoal bird, but the fact that the key was likely lost, possibly forever. I hugged my knees and placed my chin on top of them, and spent a few moments watching a rabbit anxiously devour a cluster of dandelions some yards away. Then I turned to Raggles.

“So what do we do now?”

“I have been thinking about that, my dear Buddy,” he said, still covered by his hat. “And I am happy to tell you that I am very close to a solution. Just give me another moment.”

I waited patiently for a minute, until he finally removed the hat and swiftly sat up, fixing his eyes on me with a grave expression.

“Now,” he said, “how seriously hungry are you?”

“Well,” I said, thinking about it for a second, “I suppose right now it’s alright, what with those sandwiches you offered for lunch. But I’ll need something for tonight, and I haven’t got a single kipper in the cabinet.”

“See, there’s the problem,” continued Raggles. “I would be happy to invite you for supper as well, but truth be told, Buddy… I’m as hungry as you are.”

“You are?”

“In a metaphorical sense.”

“Oh.”

“And soon literal.”

“Ah.”

“I may be a hero to many a few people in certain closed circles, Buddy,” he continued, “but I have to admit it’s not always an easy thing to pay for one’s bread and butter.

“Oh,” I said again with a frown. “Yes—what _do_ you do for a living, A. J.?”

It had never occurred to me that you could not really make a living out of playing draughts in the small leagues; but now that he mentioned it, it was rather obvious. Raggles sighed, and looked wistfully into the distance.

“As it is, I have nothing but my dear aunt’s will to live on—and that is only a fixed sum payed out every six months. Don’t get me wrong, Buddy, I am most grateful—it’s just that I never know just how much it will be; that was part of her will, you see.”

“To pay it out unevenly?”

“She was very fond of surprises.”

“Oh?”

“And as it was, the latest surprise was a very big one—in the sense that it was not.”

“Oh.”

“But you see,” he said, moving a bit closer, as if someone might overhear, “the way I see it, we wouldn’t be morally wrong in going through with your initial plan, now would we?”

“We wouldn’t?” I said, lowering my voice to fit his proximity.

“You might consider it a bonus, simply, seeing as you did a job for the man. And if I, your friend, were to take part in it… well, it would merely be as if you returned my hospitality, wouldn’t it?”

“I… I suppose, yes.”

His grave face lit up in a broad smile.

“Then what are we waiting for?”

“But we still don’t have the key, A. J.,” I said.

“I was not going to suggest we use it anyway.”

“Then what?”

“Buddy,” he said, moving even closer until his long nose nearly touched mine, “if we had found the key, and used it to break in, then you would have been the prime suspect in the crime, wouldn’t you? Yes, I have been thinking this over carefully. Who else would have had access? The police—” I started a little at the mention of these splendid but intimidating men in blue, but Raggles continued undisturbed – “might even have suggested that you stole the loot right then and there, while you were working! You see, Buddy? It would not hold up.”

“Yes, I do see,” said I with a light tremble, for I suddenly felt like I had been snatched from the very claws of death thanks to my own misfortune. “But… what’s left to do then?”

Raggles’ lips pursed into a most dangerous smile.

“Yes, Buddy—what is left?”

“Breaking in?”

“Of course!” he said, and he was up on his feet in a short second.

“But—A. J.—” I stuttered as he dragged me up again and started for the road. “I don’t even—do _you_ even know how to… do that?”

“Of course not!” he said happily, smiling broadly and taking my arm. “But I sure will after this! Never say no to new experiences, eh, Buddy?”

“No, I—I suppose not,” I replied, struggling to keep up with his much longer legs, and nearly tripping over my own in the process. “But shouldn’t we, I don’t know, make some sort of preparations first?”

“Never _postpone_ new experiences either, Buddy! Life is what happens when you’re shining your shoes for a midnight walk, eh?”

He kept up a jolly good pace, and soon we were on the street where Mr Jones had his shop. Raggles stopped, and looked around for a moment; then he pulled lightly at my arm, and discretely moved into the small alley in which one wall belonged to the butcher, and the other to the old seamstress who was still mending dresses with tremendous accuracy and skill, even though she was as near blind as one could be while handling a needle and thread. There Raggles pressed me to the one wall—the butcher’s—and gently put one of his long fingers over my lips.

“Shh,” he hushed, looking both ways.

I followed his eyes. On one side, the street lay deserted; on the other the alley passed by the fences and gates to the respective back yards of both houses, and ended in some bushes and trees before the river bank. There was not a soul in sight. Raggles removed his finger from my lips, and his glasses from his nose, and leaned in close.

“Now, Buddy,” he whispered, fixing me with his eyes, in which stormy clouds suddenly seemed to be dancing. “I’m going to need you to stand guard here, and I will jump over the fence to capture those delicious red pieces, alright?”

“But, A. J.,” I began, unwilling to let him go alone on such a dangerous enterprise; but he silenced me again with his fingertips.

“Trust me,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble, as if the storm in his eyes had begun some distance away.

I need to admit that there had never been anybody more irresistible to me in my youth than a Raggles who had made up his mind on something—and if I had thought the years that had passed had made a difference in that respect, I was now proved terrifically wrong. I could but nod weakly and wish him good luck, before watching him make his way to the tall gate. With the help of some old wooden boxes he was able to add height to his already tall figure, and before long he disappeared over the gate with frog-like agility.

The minutes that followed were long and torturous. I tried to keep all senses on full guard, so that I could warn Raggles of any danger that may arise. Once I jumped high when a bird took flight from a nearby tree; twice I flinched when a butterfly flew past my face without warning. I listened closely for any sound on the street or in the nearby gardens, and looked for any sign of movement that would indicate a potential enemy’s approach. I was perfectly alert and focused—and yet, I could not stop my mind from drifting to Raggles, and to the risk he was taking. And for my sake, too! Had it not been enough that he had shown me the old kindness I had hoped for, but never counted on? Now he was risking both honour and freedom in order to save my insignificant life—he, who was respected and admired by dozens, and who had so much more to lose than I had! He may say that it was for his own sake too; but I could not quite believe it was the only way for him; and yet, it was he who was taking the greatest risk in this daunting mission.

My fear as well as my affection for the man grew by the second as I was standing in that horrible alley, which seemed to be closing its walls on me with every breath I took. The sweat was breaking on my forehead, and my heart was pounding in my chest: and I was just on the verge of thinking I could not take a second more of it, when I heard a thud on the other side of the fence. I turned, and released a deep sigh of relief at the sight of Raggles’ face peering at me over the gate.

“Buddy!” he wheezed, and I hurried to meet him.

He was hanging with one arm over the gate, looking around before turning his eyes on me.

“I got it!” he said. “I’ve got—oops!”

His hat had fallen off his head and tumbled down to the ground. I quickly picked it up and brushed it off.

“I’ve got _the loot_ ,” he continued, eyes shining with excitement. “I’m going to throw it over the gate, and you will need to catch it, alright, Buddy?”

“Alright!” I said, with fire in my veins, and Raggles disappeared behind the fence again.

I put his hat on my head, and prepared to catch whatever came over. For a moment nothing happened. Then suddenly something brown and oval came flying through the air, and I managed to catch it with both hands. It was a brown parcel with what felt like a pretty hefty steak inside: I put it down on the ground and made myself ready again. Next came what later would prove to be a few large sausages, thrown in regular intervals; and last another, smaller, steak. After this there was a longer pause; and I was just about to whisper Raggles’ name, when he appeared on top of the gate again.

“There is a ham,” he whispered with a frown, “but I don’t dare throwing it over—it’s too heavy, it will make too much of a noise if it hits the ground; and I really don’t think you’d be able to catch it.”

“Then what do we do?”

He turned to look behind him; and as he did, my eyes wandered to a lower part of the gate.

“Raggles!” I hissed, and he turned back with a start.

“What is it?”

“I think—step back!”

“Why?”

“Just trust me?”

He hesitated for but a second, before he disappeared from my sight once again. I stepped up to the gate and reached out for the latch, hoping for the best. To my great joy and relief, the latch gave in, and the gate opened.

“Buddy!” I heard, and was immediately rewarded with a soft slap on my shoulder.

Raggles picked up the ham; and seconds later we were safely outside the gate, with the latch securely back in its place.

“Splendid!” said Raggles. “Now, let’s get out of here as soon as we can. Open your jacket, Buddy!”

I did, and he stuffed the two smaller parcels into my inner pockets. Then he put the largest sausages and the steaks inside the pockets of his own jacket, which was already about two sizes larger than he needed and therefor significantly larger than mine. The ham we would need to carry; but as Raggles said, there was no reason why we would _not_ be carrying a ham home for dinner on a Saturday evening. He then gestured at me to go, and we started for the road. But we had only taken a few steps when I stopped and grabbed the back of his jacket, forcing him to stop.

“What is it?” he hissed, but I promptly pulled him down to the ground. “Buddy!”

“Shh!” I hushed. “I saw… there, in the window!”

He put his glasses back on, and peered over the small fence and the bushes into the other back yard.

“Which one?”

“The left one!”

“Oh!”

We were half hidden behind the bushes, and I stretched a little to get a better look. The small window was decorated with a pink lace curtain and a few plants—and there was definitely a face looking out from it. I squinted.

“It’s Ms Mars!” I whispered when I recognised the small, round face, with the signature thick glasses that always covered the glossy brown eyes.

“Who?”

“The seamstress! She lives there, has her shop at the front.”

Raggles hunched down. “Did she see us?”

“I don’t know,” I said, following his example.

For a few moments we sat perfectly still. My heart was beating hard again, and I could feel Raggles’ regular breaths smite my cheek. At last I dared to take another look.

“She’s still there,” I said.

“Looking out?”

“Yes, although…”

I moved a little closer.

“It looks as if she’s signalling to someone!” I exclaimed then, horrified.

“To whom?”

“I don’t know! But she has something in her hand, a… a handkerchief?”

“Is she waving it?”

“No, she’s… it looks like she’s moving it in circles.”

“Strange.”

Raggles shifted on his feet, and looked towards the road.

“Buddy,” he said then eagerly, turning to me. “If it is a sign, and she is calling the police, we better get out of here sooner rather than later.”

“But if they see us?” I breathed.

“They will if we stay here! Now… be brave—” his hand brushed reassuringly against mine—“and follow me…”

I did as told, and followed him as he crept across the narrow alley; and then with great care along Ms Mars’ fence, keeping as close to it as possible. When we reached the wall of the house, we stood up slowly, and continued to move carefully until we reached its corner. There Raggles stopped, and looked to both sides of the street.

“Alright, Buddy,” he said. “I think the coast is clear. But we can’t be sure, so just act as normal as possible, right?”

“Right,” I said. “But…”

“But what?”

“What if someone sees us, and connects us to the crime afterwards?”

Raggles stopped to think for a second.

“There is no reason anyone should recognise me—I never come to these parts.”

“But what if someone who knows you does?”

He shook his head.

“It’s Saturday, everyone who knows me intimately is down at the club. I usually am too; and I can go there later and make up an excuse for being late.”

“Alright,” I said, relieved, and not a little impressed by my friend’s quickness of mind. “But what about me?”

He looked at me, and frowned.

“You’re wearing my hat,” he stated.

“Oh! Yes, sorry,” I said, and attempted to take it off.

“No,” he said, stopping me mid-movement. “It’s a perfect disguise! No one will recognise you wearing it—it’s not your style at all.”

He tilted the hat a little, making it fall further down over my brows.

“There!” he said with a smile. “Now come on—we’ll never win the game if we don’t make a move!”

He stole another quick look; and then we stepped onto the road, and walked with a steady pace until we were past the houses, and away from Ms Mars’ prying eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**PART III**

Raggles’ modest home was much as I had left it after lunch: cigarette stumps in the ashtrays, empty glasses on the table; and the pieces spread out across the board where he had given a display of his impressive skills. Yet, it all felt as if it had been a century ago, when we entered through the tattered oak door with the stained glass and into the sitting room, and Raggles immediately began to unload the stolen goods right onto his dining table—the same one that we had been sitting at, innocently laughing and conversing, only hours earlier. Oh, how it all had changed since then—what a turn we had taken! I stood for some moments and looked on as he placed one brown parcel after the other on the table; then, when he reached out his hand for the rest, I simply handed him my jacket as if controlled by some ulterior force. Each parcel seemed to shout— _thief!—swindler!—criminal!—_ with every rustle of the paper; the colour was another reminder of how low I had sunk; and the smell of the meat seeped into my nose like a poison; choking me, dazing me; and finally making me sit down on a chair because I could no longer stand on my two dishonest feet.

Raggles had finished unpacking the loot, and was now busy arranging it in neat piles and feeling the different pieces.

“I think we better use this steak for dinner, I’m afraid it will go bad if we—Buddy!”

He had at last noticed my disordered state, and came rushing to my side. His gentle hand on my shoulder only doubled my guilt, however, and I buried my head in my hands in despair.

“Whatever is the matter, Buddy?” he said, audibly confused.

“Oh God,” I mumbled into my hands. “Oh God, oh God...”

His hand moved to the back of my neck, stroking it tenderly, and I forced myself to look up. His wonderful eyes were cloudy with concern.

“I have made you a criminal,” I said miserably.

“Buddy…”

“I have!” I cried. “You would never have done what you did if it wasn’t for me, would you? I barely thought myself capable of doing it, but I always more intended to do it than not, and had it just been me I could have lived with it; but to drag you into the whole thing was a worse deed than the crime itself, because now I have ruined you—of all people!—as well, and… _oh_!”

My head went down again. For a few moments all was silent. Then Raggles put his other hand under my chin, and carefully lifted it so that I was forced to look at him again.

“Buddy,” he said calmly. “You didn’t _drag_ me into it—I rushed in by my own free will. And whether or not I would have done it if it wasn’t for you, doesn’t matter. I have never once in my life regretted helping you, with anything; and I never will.”

His eyes were honest as the blue sky after a thunderstorm; and though my own were suddenly covered by a light summer rain, the truth in his did not escape me.

“You really mean that?” I had to ask still.

“I do.”

I let out a small laugh, half relief and half disbelief, and he stroke my neck again with a smile.

“Besides,” he said then, in a lighter tone, “I found the whole thing rather exciting! I wouldn’t mind doing it again, as a matter of fact.”

“Again?” I exclaimed.

“Why not?” he said, and stood up. “I don’t see things looking any brighter for either of us in the near future, do you? This lot will only last us so long—what will we do next week, or the week after that?”

“You mean,” I said, slowly getting to my feet, “that we should make this a… a regular thing?”

“Do you have a better idea? Just think of how we got through today! I don’t think there is anything terrible in it—if we are good at it, which we have already proved to be, it can’t really be wrong to make an honest living out of dishonesty?”

“I suppose not,” I said, with only a grain of hesitation, for as usual his words made a great deal of sense. “And it’s not really your fault that your aunt left you such an undependable heritage.”

“Nor is it yours that pipes in this area are so dependable!”

“I suppose not!”

“Then it’s a deal?”

His hand reached out; he had stepped up close to me, and he was smiling his most open and approachable smile—the one I had never been able to resist. I took his hand, and pressed it fervently.

“It’s a deal.”

The blue eyes sparkled behind the foggy glasses as his hand clasped around mine in a burning grip, and I had half a mind to seal our agreement with something more than a handshake. Instead I took a breath, and asked the question that had been nagging my mind all the way home.

“A. J.,” I said. “If we are to continue with this, I need to know— _how_ did you break into Mr Jones’ shop?”

He hesitated for a second. Then he straightened his back.

“Well,” he began slowly. “I think you will find, Buddy, that in this line of work there are many ways to do a thing right; and just as in the honourable sport of draughts, you will find that both cunning and chance play a big part in succeeding in one’s mission.”

“And this time?”

He smiled again, somewhat sheepishly.

“This time,” he said, “the door was open.”

I stared for a moment; then I let out another laugh, and placed both my hands on his arms.

“Trust you to find the opportunity,” I said affectionately, looking straight into his glittering eyes.

“It might not be next time, mind you.”

“Then what shall we do?” I smiled.

“Then,” he said proudly, “I shall do what I always do—use cunning, and strategy; and with the aid of the bravery and resource you have proved capable of today, we shall find ourselves just as successful as in this round.”

For the years of knowing him so superficially and admiring him from a distance, now combined with the intimacy of the past few hours and my newfound insight as to his abilities, I could do nothing but believe him. Well, I could do one more thing, the thing I had been longing to do for a very long time; and as it was, I suddenly found it overwhelmingly difficult not to do it. And so I finally put my arms around his neck and stood on my toes, and without further ado pulled his face to mine and pressed our lips close together.

“Oh,” he breathed in surprise when I released him.

“Yes,” I said, holding on to his shoulders for steadiness. “Yes, I believe you are right.”

He looked at me curiously for a moment, and for a second I was afraid I had been too forward. But the eyes were as mysterious and familiar and as wildly calm as the Serpentine; and the next moment he smiled, and put his arms around my waist.

“I usually am, my dear Buddy,” he said. “And you shan’t have reason to doubt me—as true as I am Mr Archibald J. Raggles. When you want me, I’m your man.”

He drew me close to press his lips to mine once more. And that is how Raggles and I sealed our fate on that summer’s eve, after a narrow escape from the eyes of Mars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit for title goes to Wolfie and their "Victorian Gentlemen Bunglers" Spotify playlist.  
> Author of this work strongly recommends following the canon titles of that list, in order, for any future works about Raggles and Buddy.
> 
> Note: Buddy is, in fact, engaged to be married at the time of this story. Whether he momentarily forgot the fact, or chose to ignore it, is for future stories to tell.


End file.
